Troubled souls catch all
by CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean
Summary: This is just a catch all for my part in a 24/24 colab called troubled souls, if your interested chek it out. The only reason this exists is because docx won't cooperate.


p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Shut up! You never let me do what I want, you're always going out with your friends while I clean!" /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""You want to know why? because a man can only stay inside with his stupid wife and his fagot son for so long before he goes insane! And cleaning! You never clea-" /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I roll over and stuff my head under my pillow with a groan. After so many years of fighting I've grown used to the noise of bottles breaking and people screaming. With a sigh I throw back my thin blanket and swing my feet off the edge of the bed. Placing both feet on the freezing floor of my room I step out of bed and put on my glasses. I chuckle, it's a good thing I'll never be in the games because, without my glasses, I'd be dead within a hour. "Finding clean clothing for the reaping today will be challenge enough!" I thought as I glance around my room./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"My room looks more like a closet than anything but I manage keep it clean enough. I look around, running a scarred hand over my blond head. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"The closest thing I have to nice clothes, meaning clothes that aren't too covered in grease stains, seemed to be a pair of brown cargo pants and a gray t-shirt. Glancing in the mirror I ruffle my longish hair into some sort of order and sneak downstairs to find breakfast. I made it to the kitchen of our decrepit house without being seen by either of my parents or stepping on any shards of glass. The only thing left in the food drawer is stale bread so I quickly scarf down a piece before bolting out the door. I put on my only pair of boots as I go./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Once on the street, I head for my friend Miguel's house. In my life, friends are hard to come by, but he had always stuck with me. I have been friends with Miguel since I was 12. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Wandering down the smoggy streets of District 3 I ponder the terrible situation that brought us together./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I was at work, having dropped out of school to feed my little sister, Lillian, and get her an education despite my parent's habits, and it was a fairly cold day. It was my birthday and Lillian had just given me a bracelet woven out of wire threads when I looked up to see Miguel. He was walking past on his way to school. It was just a quick glance and I didn't remember it until I met him again. My attention was diverted quickly, anyways, by my sister as she kissed me on the cheek. I remember grinning at her as she skipped out of the room. I remember screaming as the room she entered blew up. She was only six. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Much of what happened next was lost to me in a haze of grief. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I later learned that the boiler warming that room had overheated. To my shock I also learned that I had attempted to dig Lillian out of the burning wreckage. Guess it was a reflex. This reflex left me in the hospital with bandages around my face and hands for weeks. It was around this time I was told I would need glasses... For life. It was devastating. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I shut down after that. The happy-go-luck Sam everyone loved turned into a cruel, sarcastic, jerk. It was a mask to protect myself./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Months later, after I had recovered, I met some other boys in the new factory I had been transferred to. Being older than me and terrible bullies, the started picking on me for my scarring, still pink and tender, which covered my hands, arms, and my left temple. They were shoving me around, hitting and smacking, when Miguel stepped in and told 'em all to buzz off./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"It was that moment that made me trust him, a wiry kid with darker skin and expressive eyes. He had stuck with me trough my depression at the loss of my sister, my abuse at the hands of my dad, and even my struggle with being bisexual. He was a friend I knew I didn't deserve. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Earth to Sam, Earth to Sam! Samuel Allen Phillips Northwood? Are you in there?" I jerked back to the present, realizing that Miguel was waving his hand in front of my face. "Hey mate! Good to see you returned from lala land,! Drop the "grump face" also, you know there's no need to wear that mask around me!" /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Then he grins and slings his arm around my shoulder. I gave him a half hearted smile. "Hey Mig... It's good see your ugly mug." /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Miguel stood head and shoulders over me, with his buzzed black hair and his lanky frame, making him the perfect stereotype of the district 3 male. He was grinning like the goofus he was. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Behind us Miguel's parents and sisters waved goodbye. His sisters, thankfully, were too young to go to the reaping and for Miguel, being 18, it was his last year. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that without him, my life would have been and would be hell./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Ugly? Ugly!" He scoffed before realizing that I wasn't paying attention./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Hey man, look at me." Miguel had stopped in the middle of the road and was watching me "It's my last year, the chances of me being chosen are slim! Quit worrying!" Sometimes I think he can read my mind. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Miguel, you know me, all I do is worry. But you are right, it is your last year... Guess I'm just nervous." /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Yah, I know, I get nervous every year... But after this year I'll only have to be nervous for you!" He tried to grin again, but it failed./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I tactfully forgot about his little sisters. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Rounding the corner we came up to the masses of children, all gathered for the reaping. The colors of the outfits, though most plain and dingy, conflicted, making the scene even more chaotic. Wading through the crowd, and following Miguel who towered over everyone else, I managed to bump into very few people as we made our way to the line. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Without watching were I place my two left feet, I ram into a little girl. She couldn't have been more than 13, and I feel terrible as I nock her over. Thankfully, I catch her before she hits the ground. Her velvet dress twirls as I set her back on her feet./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Sorry!" I apologize, forgetting my cruel "mask" in the face of instinct, but all she does was swat off my hand. She glances at me before mumbling something unintelligible and walking away. My eyebrows shoot up, but I don't push my luck, and turn back to Miguel. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Within moments we are registered, pricked, and filed into our respective ages. I wait with the others for our escort, Remus Grande. He has been district 3's escort for as long as I can remember and to the best of my knowledge, he had a different hairstyle every year. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"There was no need to wait for the victors, we have none, so Remus starts his speech immediately. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Hello, citizens! Welcome to the Reaping for the 103rd Annual Hunger Games! Before we start, I have a little presentation to show you! Please turn your eyes to the screen!"" He says in his chipper voice. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"The, as Miguel had nicknamed it, "siesta video" begins to play, rambling on and on about rebellions, previous tributes, and the origins of the hunger games./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I had the thing memorized but watched it anyways, mouthing the words. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"It comes to an end far too quickly for my nervous state and our attention is directed toward the stage again. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Well then, wasn't that fun?" A pause in which no one answered followed, I almost laugh. "Alright, let's get this party started! Ladies first!" He grins and plunges his hand into the first bowl, searching around for the "perfect" piece of paper. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Drawing it out he opens it with a flourish and smiles. "Our lucky lady is Athena Spektor!" A deep sadness washes over me as I watch the little girl from earlier climb the steps. In the background two people, who I assume are her parents, stand weeping. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""And now for the gentlemen!" Beams Remus, oblivious to the pain around him. I fiddle nervously with my glasses, hoping with all my might that everything will turn out fine. He fishes out a slip of paper and holding it up cries "Miguel Stinson!" /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"My brain froze in that moment, but my reflexes didn't, and before my best friend could even step foot in the isle I find myself walking forward. "I volunteer!" I yell, ignoring Miguel's protests and the stairs to stand beside Remus, who is beaming again. "And you are?" He shoves the microphone under my nose./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""Samuel Allen Phillips Northwood" I practically growl, shoving my hands in my pockets... The old Sam is gone forever now./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;""District three... Your tributes for the 103rd Annual Hunger Games! Athena Spektor and... um... Samuel Allen Something Northwood! Shake hands, you two." I turn to Athena, smirk, and shake her hand. All an act, always an act. She smiles shyly back as we are escorted off stage. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Miguel is already waiting for me in the justice building and he fingers my wire bracelet, talking nonsense about how it'll all be okay. We both know it won't. To soon Miguel is escorted from the room. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"I pace the floor, hoping that my parents don't arrive, but it is not to be so. The door bursts open as my obviously drunk father bursts in. The only thing I have time to do as his his fist collides with my face is wonder where my mom is; probably high. I lay on the floor, curled up, unmoving as he screams things like " how could you?" "Worthless Fairy!" and peacekeepers escort him fro the building and shut the door. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"No one asks if I'm alright, and I don't ask for help. The Sam everyone despises is tough./span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"Soon enough I am escorted to the train, head down to hide my newest bruise. I watch as my partner grins and boards train after me, tears unnoticed in her eyes. /span/p  
p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="font-size: 12pt;"My... What a pair we make./span/p 


End file.
